


Traditions Define Us

by The_Sherlocked_Shadow



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Angst, Awkward Conversations, Because Spock's thoughts get a bit violent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by TOS: Amok Time, Lots of sex talk, Lust, Masturbation, Mating, Maybe just a slight finger kink, Pon Farr, Romance, Violence, a bit dark, because Spock's Vulcan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-13 22:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Sherlocked_Shadow/pseuds/The_Sherlocked_Shadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After seven years of working with the Enterprise, Spock thought that he couldn't get into much more trouble than what Jim T. Kirk got him into.</p><p>He was wrong.</p><p>He was a Vulcan. And Vulcan traditions were not to be ignored.</p><p>Spock's first <i>pon farr </i>aboard the <i>USS Enterprise</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Needing You Like No Other

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to Trek. I'll be the first to admit it. But I'm learning. Amok Time was amazing. I'm still watching the first season of TOS (although I've seen, like stated, Amok Time), so yes, I'm still learning about the Trek!verse.
> 
> Also, despite the explicit sexual content in this chapter, there will not be much Uhura/Spock.
> 
> I do not own Trek. The title is a reference to BBC's Sherlock, of which I do not own, either.

Spock noticed it first during intercourse with Nyota.

The nerve ending in his fingertips were more alive than ever, every touch nearly undoing him as he swept his fingers across his companion's stomach, curled his thumb and forefinger around one of her hardened nipples, brushed his thumb against her cheekbones. The sensation settled into his stomach and then groin, drawing him closer to ecstasy quicker than ever before.

He tried vainly to ignore his fingers, but touch has always been one of his biggest- what did the humans call it?- _turn ons_. He latched his fingers into her silky soft hair, combing it away from her flushed face.

His lips, too, were part of the change.

As he brushed them first gently against against Uhura's lips, the burst of electricity made his lips tickle. He licked them in response. Uhura took the motion to mean that Spock wished to tongue-kiss and parted her lips. Spock hesitated- for the purpose of wondering what the heightened sensation would do- before joining her in the sloppy French kiss.

The sensation through his mouth, his tongue, her tender touches were nothing compared to the fingertips. And when Uhura- who knew about his Vulcan anatomy and what made him tick- placed a delicate kiss on the tip of his index finger, her tongue flickering over the pad of his finger, the telltale notion of impending orgasm was too close.

"Nyota, it is imperative that you- _ah_ \- that-that you stop, if you wish me to maintain an erection-"

"Erections are second best to the orgasms that you have," she replied in the silky voice that only surfaced in the bedroom.

She took one of his hands and guided it between her legs. Spock immediately took over the motion and started to rub gentle circles on her inner thigh, not trusting himself to go further. He had no inhibitions about sex- it was a purely logical way to rid oneself of hormones- but he was also afraid of that maddeningly arousing feeling that he had never yet experienced.

"Spock," she whispered.

Her teeth grazed against his fingertip and Spock groaned, trying with failing resolve to stave off the need for release for just a few more moments. He knew Uhura was correct in her statement: his orgasms were better than the erection. But to end this so soon would be an utter waste for their free hours away from the Bridge. Usually, Spock could out during intercourse until a final blinding moment, but tonight, and while he didn't know why, was different. He desperately wanted to bring Uhura to completion, but she would bring him off first.

And, with one swipe of her tongue against his fingers and her opposite hand stroking his throbbing sex, she did just that.

It should have been secondary on Spock's mind, bringing Nyota off, because he had forgotten that his Lieutenant could orgasm simply from watching him orgasm. Like a chain of command, Uhura came with a lustful yell that Spock desperately wanted to swallow with his tongue, his lips, to feel the sound slipping through his oversensitive fingertips.

Instead, he collapsed onto the bed next to her, sweaty and breathing hard. He relished in the movement of her swiping his mussed hair out of his face. Her touch was always pleasant.

These acts were not common. Casual intercourse, which his Captain had a lot with various women, it seemed, was a concept that Spock did not understand. Even casual intercourse with one person baffled him, and only when he and Uhura both felt the undeniable draw did they fall into bed in one sweaty heap. It was not unpleasant and Spock found that he could always focus better afterwards.

"That had to be a record," Uhura breathed.

Spock fluttered his eyes open, tilting his head towards her. "I apologise."

"No, it was... amazing. Points for being quick and concise, though." Her voice was hinted with amusement. "Desperate much?"

"No, not in particular. The sensations, however, seem to be amplified. For some reason, my body seems more sensitive tonight. In particular, my fingers."

"Oh?"

Spock found Uhura taking his hand in hers, turning it over.

"Your delicate nerve endings are more delicate than usual?" she said, voice coy. She pressed two fingers to two of his, gently rubbing the flesh together.

Spock's back practically arched off the bed with the sudden sensation. He could feel his cock twitch at the movement, warmth rushing back into it. He was struck with the urge to stroke himself, which surprised him. Sex being what it was to him, multiple orgasms were something rarely achieved.

But, tonight, he wanted to do it until the bed broke.

The thought surprised him again, but definitely aroused him, and he muffled his groan against Uhura's neck in a kiss that would probably leave a dark bruise for her to hide beneath her uniform's collar. (He was extraordinarily fastidious in this aspect. Sexual intercourse, while pleasant, should remain only known to the two willing participants. Which was why when Kirk and Bones joked about getting laid, Spock felt morbidly uncomfortable.)

"Needy, are we?" Uhura laughed, tilting her neck.

Spock possessively pulled her closer, desperate to have her skin beneath his pulsating fingertips.


	2. A Slow Build Up to Realisation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock makes a realisation. 
> 
> It's not just a sex drive. It's Vulcan biology.

It took three days before Spock realised what was going on.

After the sex, Spock thought that he would be placated for some time. Usually, one bout of intercourse would make him relaxed enough for work for a few months. Now? Not too much.

As soon as Nyota left his bedroom, Spock found himself feeling cold and empty. He was sweaty and aching with want and, disgusted with himself, he stumbled to the showers and set them to water instead of sonic. That last time that he had taken a water shower had been months upon months ago, when he and Captain Kirk had gotten stuck in a pit of quicksand. Spock had felt so... dirty and gritty and _disgusting_ that he had actually succumbed to water instead of pulsing vibrations to get clean. He would have opted for a bath that night if he could and he found himself longing for that now. He was so sweaty and lusty and _ugh_.

The day after, the command on the Bridge was awkward. Spock had this undying notion that Kirk _knew_ something was going on with him. Given how Spock did _not_ want to discuss why his libido had just taken a turn for a more active sex life, he tried to avoid his Captain. This, of course, most likely made Kirk more suspicious, but the moment that Kirk dismissed him, Spock was striding into the turbolift without a second glance back.

That night was a horror story in itself. Spock didn't feel like sleeping. He was too... His body felt like it was strung up too tightly. He wanted to jump out of his bed the moment that his back touched the mattress. He felt anxiety. It was a strange feeling.

An increased libido was one thing, but this was bizarre. Spock had a constant erection settled just below the waistband of their uniform-issued black slacks. It was terribly uncomfortable but he just didn't _do_ that. Masturbation was, to an effect, sex with one's self, so, given his drive, there should be no problem in shucking his trousers to his knees and bringing himself off.

But it was still...

A thrill of want shot through Spock's veins. His hand shot underneath the blankets and before he could stop himself, he stroked himself through the coarse fabric.

He swallowed the groan and fumbled with the button and zip on his pants. He shoved them out of the way quickly, along with his black underwear, pressing his hand against his cock as it sprang free of clothes constraints.

Half-disgusted and more than half aroused, Spock stroked himself with measured slowness. His penis was just that- his own- and he knew what brought him to the edge faster than anyone else. But still... He thought he was going to break the headboard if he didn't loosen his grip.

He uncurled his fingers slightly from the bed frame, increasing his tempo on his own cock. This was maddening. This was disgusting. This was...

Spock imagined that it was Uhura's mouth on his cock and not his own hand.

It brought him off at a _new_ record time, soiling his blankets and covering him with his own bodily issue.

Too physically and mentally shattered to do anything about it, Spock just flopped onto his pillow and fell asleep.

By day two, Spock was sure that Kirk knew that something was wrong. It was in the way that his bright blue gaze lingered on his form, the way that he voiced his name every so often in his commands or questions, instead of saying _Commander_.

It made Spock want to lunge across the Bridge and knock Jim's teeth down his throat.

"Spock, have you seen-"

"My calculations have been finished for approximately three point two hours. There is no reason to continue unnecessarily speaking to me."

Spock may have imagined it, but it seemed like silence fell across the Bridge.

Jim's lips drew downwards in a frown. "What's going on with you, Spock? You were acting strange yesterday and even worse today."

"It is none of your business," Spock said, lowering his voice.

Jim's eyebrows went up. "Not my _business_? This ship _is_ my business, Spock, so it's my place to know what's happening to my first officer."

Spock curled his hand into a fist to stop from his fingers from trembling. Even then, it didn't help. He could practically feel the tremors moving up his arm as he stared at the screen in front of him.

"It is no problem of yours. I will handle it," Spock said, unclenching his teeth.

"Spock..."

Every nerve ending in his body was tensed, ready to pounce. Jim was _there_ , in his personal space, all curiosity and testosterone. So much male dominance made Spock pulse with an anger that rivalled when Jim had doubted his emotion towards his mother. He wanted to push him back against the wall, shove his kneecap against his stomach, and watch him struggle for breath as Spock choked the life out of him.

"Leave me to my devices, Captain," Spock bit off.

Jim was silent for a moment before turning away. "Ritchie, take over for Mr. Spock."

Spock whipped his head around so fast that the world blurred. "Captain?"

Jim didn't look back at he walked away. "Clearly, you are unfit for duty. Report to either Sickbay or your quarters, but you are not welcome on the Bridge until you have _handled_ whatever this is."

Spock stared at the back of the dirty blonde hair, his gaze turning from bewilderment to a glare. It would be so easy. Three steps across the Bridge, position his foot against the small of Jim's back, send him flying into his Captain's chair. Step down on his leg, hear the satisfying crunch, drag him to his feet by that ruffled hair. Throw him down in the chair, curl both hands around his throat. Even with both hands free, Kirk would not be able to dislodge the Vulcan grip.

"Spock, that was an order," Jim said, sitting down in his chair.

Spock ground his teeth and got to his feet. "As you wish," he said, tone clipped. He turned for the turbolift.

By the third day, Spock was glad that Jim had prohibited him from his duty. He couldn't hide his blatant longing under his uniform. Be that as it may, walking around in boxers felt improper. So, he pattered about his quarters with his uniform still on, his problem visible to only his own eyes.

Until, suddenly, his quarter door slid open. Spock didn't know whether to pounce for the bed and bury himself under his blankets- he felt incredibly exposed in this situation, even completely dressed- or to face his visitor like nothing was happening.

He settled for sinking into his chair, crossing his legs under his desk.

Jim strode in. "Spock, we've got to talk."

Spock bit the inside of his lip. He didn't want to talk. He wanted to do quite a few things, but he didn't want to talk. Much less to a man. Much less to his arrogant, pompous, sex-obsessed _Captain_. This was a private matter.

"Yes?" Spock asked, trying to keep his tone flat.

"What's going on with you?" Jim asked, sitting on the edge of Spock's bed. "You're not acting like your normal self. Ritchard is good, but your level is unmatched in the first officer's seat. I want you back, Spock, but I need to know what's wrong."

"There is nothing," Spock said evenly.

"Spock-"

"As I was inclined to say before, Captain, it is none of your business."

Jim's nostrils flared in indignition. "And as I told you, it _is_ my business, so I order you to-"

Spock cut him off before he could go any further. As much as he strove to obey his Captain's every command, he could not let Jim make this one. "It is a personal matter. Leave me be."

Jim looked at him closely. Anger spiked in Spock's veins once again. He pushed it aside irritably, swallowing back panic. If Jim didn't leave him alone, there was the very real possibility that he would be hurt. Spock did not want to hurt Jim, but this _prying_...

"Are you ill?" Jim asked.

"Yes," Spock replied without thinking. He was ill in such a way that made his mind fall to shattered bits in his mind, although not in the physical sense. He didn't have a cold. He had the terrible urge to mate.

The word suddenly clicked into place.

_Mate._

_"There comes a time in every Vulcan's life where he must return to his home. Every seven years, no matter where he is or what he is doing, he will have the relentless urge to return to Vulcan and take a mate. This is called the_ pon farr _."_

Spock's heart started to pound frantically in his chest.

Jim was still talking. "- mean, if you're sick, that's fine, everybody gets sick, but you need to go to the medical bay. Spock, are you listening to me?"

"Get out," Spock interrupted.

Jim stopped, looking at him oddly. "What?"

"I need time to myself. I will report to you in the morning. Please leave."

The Captain stared at him for a moment longer before nodding slowly. "Okay. Alright. Just let me know if I can help, Spock. Or Bones. Or tell Uhura-"

Spock shifted irritably in the chair, eager to grab his PADD off the bedside table. That would mean, of course, getting up and walking across the room in front of Jim, who would no doubt notice the very noticeable erection and make a stupid comment about sex.

"Okay, okay, I get it, I'm leaving. Just... talk to us, Spock. We'll do what we can, alright?"

"Affirmative," Spock replied quickly.

Jim gave him one long, searching look before vanished out the door.

Spock immediately jumped to his feet, grabbed his PADD, and set up communcation with his father. It took approximately eight minutes, fifty-seven seconds before Sarek replied and Spock counted each second with bated breath.

His chest felt constricted. His heart was hammering. He was so anxious, almost nervous, that he got to his feet and started pacing from his bed to the far wall of his enclosed bathroom and back. Sarek answered his call on the forty-fifth turn- eight minutes, fifty-seven seconds.

_"Spock."_

"Father," he greeted, sinking onto the edge of his mattress.

_"You appear to be in great distress, my son."_

"Yes." Spock paused. "Father... I believe the _pon farr_ is beginning."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More plot, more story, less sex.
> 
> Also, I don't think a communicator contacts anyone else except people on the ship, so I would think that Spock could have a video connection with Sarek on his PADD. Not sure that it's technically correct, but for this story, that was my ida.
> 
> I realise that this is a quick update, but updates won't be this quick usually. Usually I try to update once a week, if my muse works. Thanks for the kudos and I would love to hear any feedback at all, given this is my first _serious_ Trek story. :)


	3. Awkward Confrontations and Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jim finds out about Vulcan biology.

_"Yes." Spock paused. "Father... I believe the_ pon farr _is beginning."_

There was a pause from Sarek. Spock's father seemed to be searching for the right words. Spock understood his hesitance. Vulcans did not talk about _pon farr_. However, Vulcans had never planned on Vulcan being destroyed. Contingency plans had to be in order. Spock simply did not know of them, due to his affaires with the _Enterprise_. He had been in space for three years of a five year mission. He did not know of advances at New Vulcan.

_"You will return to New Vulcan,_ " Sarek said, tone serious.

"It is of utmost importance for Vulcans to return to their place of origin." Spock paused. "Our place of origin is simply a void space in the sky."

_"New Vulcan will serve as the commonplace. I must warn you that_ pon farr _of late have been increasingly violent."_

"The _kal-if-fee_..." Spock murmured.

_"With so many mates killed during the Black Hole incident, many feel inclined to fight out their_ pon farrs _."_

"I would be more logical for our endangered species to procreate," Spock said.

_"And yet_ pon farr _is never logical, merely biological."_

Spock resisted the urge to sigh. "What are my arrangements... with Nyota?"

Sarek frowned in contemplation. _"Your Mother and I... Our arrangement worked for a short amount of time."_

Spock rubbed small circles into his thigh irritably. "You are saying that having a sexual relationship with a human being will not satiate the hunger of _pon farr_."

_"A Vulcan's sustenance is far superior to that of a human's. I imagine that you have begun to feel the effect of the mating ritual."_

"If you are inquiring upon my sex life, then, yes, I have noticed less... satisfaction." Spock pondered the word for a moment. "Perhaps that is incorrect. The satisfaction has been more intense, but there is the lingering thought that there should be more. There is never enough. It is inescapeable, this... _feeling_ plaguing my mind and body. Parts arousal and parts nervousness. It is... most unacceptable."

_"That is part of the_ pon farr _. Return to New Vulcan. We will speak further on the matter then. But, Spock? Make haste. The blood fever is strong in Vulcans, my son. If the sickness does not kill you, what you may do while you are unaware may indeed cripple your mind instead. I estimate that you have nearly a week. Your Chief Medical Officer will be able to further pinpoint the exact length of time before it will kill you."_

Spock absently ran his fingertips over the indent on his PADD. It sent tingles travelling through his arm, to his shoulders. The feeling settled deep into his heart, making it flutter and flip uncontrollably.

"Yes. Thank you, Father. I will speak with you soon."

He ended the communication on his PADD and sat in silence, turning the tablet over in his hands, staring at the far wall.

He was going to have to broach the topic with Jim. He did not look forward to it at all.

* * *

Spock didn't report to the Bridge the next morning. He got out of bed- even though he hadn't slept for the past three nights- slowly and walked to his shower.

Sexual intercourse was a private thing. Spock had always lived by this motto. Given that he was half-human, his urges tended to occur... more often than what he assumed was normal for Vulcans. He was- and always had been- ostacised in his own community. He had endured taunting since he had been a young child. It didn't bother him most of the time, but there were times when it conflicted him. As As Sarek had told him, he was always going to be a child of two worlds. Half human, half Vulcan. Half logical, half emotional. He tried to maintain the logical side of his heritage, because emotions were troublesome.

But now, emotions were enveloping his mind and it scared him. It literally frightened him. His mind was controlling his body. Driving him to Uhura's quarters, for instance.

Spock stared at the Lieutenant's door, wondering how he had gotten there. The last thing he remembered was walking into his own bathroom, thinking about his state, and now that he had come around, he was standing in front of Uhura's quarters.

He looked down at himself. He was wearing his uniform- black shirt, blue overshirt, black slacks and boots. He didn't remember getting dressed, but thanked his unconscious mind that he had. While his problems were already strange enough, he didn't need any added stress layered on top of it.

With a sigh, Spock started back to his quarters, planning to read up on anything about _pon farr_ that he could find. He retained knowledge from learning about it from his father, and from the betrothal that he had experienced when he had been young, but with the fuss of all things (namely _Starfleet_ and one James Tiberius Kirk), Spock hadn't put much effort into looking for new knowledge.

Not to mention the redeeming fact that he had never wanted to jinx it. He had thought that maybe, just _maybe_ , he would be able to avoid the Vulcan tradition. Being half human, shouldn't that have counted for something? Apparently not.

_"Mr. Spock to Bridge."_

Spock looked at the wall communicator, pressing the intercom button. "Yes?"

_"Meet me in your quarters,"_ Jim's voice said. _"You owe me an explanation as to why my first officer almost broke my neck yesterday."_

"I was in no danger of breaking your neck, Captain," Spock said, although he was sure that he was. The point was that he had thought that he had been hiding his dark anger remarkably well.

_"Your quarters, Spock. Three minutes."_

Spock sighed. "As you wish."

Three minutes later, Spock was sitting comfortably on his bed, still in his uniform, hands folded across his lap. The Captain strode in, a minute and twenty seconds (fashionably, as Jim called it) late.

With a weary sigh, Jim threw himself down next to Spock, laying back against the mattress. He drew his arm over his eyes.

Spock turned his head slightly, casting his gaze at his improper Captain.

"This five year mission is an honour and all that shit, but I don't know how we manage to get into so much trouble all the time."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "It should be fairly obvious, Captain."

Kirk waved his hand dismissively. "We're not talking about me, we're talking about you. What's going on?"

Spock looked back ahead. "I have... I have a request."

Kirk turned his head, peering under his arm. "Yeah? What's that?"

"I wish to take shore leave on New Vulcan."

Jim was silent for a moment before he pushed himself into a sitting position. He was inspecting Spock, the Vulcan could tell, but he refused to meet the man's gaze.

"Is my shore leave granted?" Spock asked after a moment of silence.

"Maybe," Jim answered. "What's the reason?"

Spock shuffled his feet, straightening his back. He was trying desperately not to fidget. Fidgeting was something uncommon to his species. Nothing ever made him uncomfortable. Nothing except sex. And this was about sex. This had everything to do with sex.

"It is... personal," Spock said hesitantly.

"Spock, just tell me. Amongst friends here," Jim said, laying back again. "I really have a killer headache."

"It's to do with... It has to do with my Vulcan anatomy," Spock said awkwardly.

Jim's eyes snapped open. "Wait, anatomy? What do you mean, anatomy?"

Spock shifted uncomfortably. "Biology," he clarified.

Kirk's raised eyebrows urged him on.

"My- Captain, you must know that what I am telling you is considered to be of utmost secret to anyone outside the Vulcan species. Outworlders know nothing of Vulcan biology unless they are directly involved."

"Am I about to become directly involved?" Kirk asked, looking at him.

Jim's dirty blonde hair was unkept and mussed, sticking out in a wild disarray. His eyebrows were drawn in confusion, his bright blue eyes blazing with the thrill of chasing Spock's mystery. His lips were a delectable pink, lush and plump, enticing to the hormones coarsing through Spock's body. What would it be like to _kiss_ -

Spock felt his ears burn as he jerked his attention away. He could not have just been _fantasising_ about his _Captain_. His Captain was his _Captain_. A _male_. No one that Spock could mate with... Well, he could, but he just _couldn't_.

"Spock?"

Spock fought back an answering whimper. His mind was tearing upon itself. His logic was dwindling. He wanted to have sex with his Captain; he had no logic! No logic! Wrong, wrong, wrong. It felt like every nerve ending was on fire. His stomach was on fire. His entire body, his entire being, he was going to explode if something didn't happen, now, fast-

"Spock!"

Spock kneaded his hands against his thighs, feeling antsy. He felt like he could jump out of his own skin. He couldn't _stand_ it.

"Spock-" Jim placed a hand on Spock's shoulder, most likely in worry.

Spock could take it no longer.

His instincts reacted. He twisted around, grabbed Jim's wrist and forced his arm behind his back. When Jim yelled out of surprise and pain, Spock's lips twisted towards a smirk. He slammed Jim down face-first against the bed, pressing his free hand directly against the small of Kirk's back.

"Spock- Spock, dammit, let me go! The fuck's wrong with you?"

Mate or die. Mate or kill. Spock didn't have a mate and Jim couldn't be one and therefore, it was kill. Spock wouldn't die. Kill.

"Spock!"

Before Spock knew it, he was flat on the floor. A brief tussle ensued. It ended with Spock's back flat against the floor, cold linoleum seeping to his scalp.

He stared dazedly up at Jim, who was standing above him, panting for breath. "Jim...?"

"Fucking hell, Spock, what _was_ that?" Jim panted, bracing his hands on his knees. "You just _attacked_ me... What the hell was that about??"

Spock drew in a few deep breaths, trying to collect his thoughts. "I do not know." He paused. "In actuality, the outbursts of violence are caused by a chemical imbalance."

"Chemical... Chemical imbalance? What the hell does _that_ mean??"

Spock got to his feet, fixing his uniform. "This chemical imbalance... It sends off different reactions within the Vulcan body. Anger, for instance. Unexplainable moments. Anxiety. Like my entire body has the jitters, I believe you call it. I can't sit still." He turned away, interesting himself with fixing his pillows. "This chemical imbalance sends off pulse bursts of emotion. One moment reigns anger while lust dominates the next."

"Lust?" Jim replied, still sounding more shook up over the fight than the conversation in question.

"Arousal," Spock clarified. "It is my mating time."

Spock was never one to be terribly cliché, but it was in that moment- to borrow a human metaphor- it was as if time itself had stopped. He didn't look back around, but he could feel Jim's eyes boring a hole in his back. He tried to maintain an air of dignity, except he had just attacked his Captain and he didn't have an ounce of dignity left.

Jim broke the silence.

"Well, fuck. I thought you had a boner, but figured I shouldn't say anything so it wouldn't get _really_ awkward."

Spock let out a breath that he hadn't been conscious of holding. Jim had taken that with a relatively calm attitude. He could have reacted much worse.

"... Mating season, huh?" Jim asked after a moment.

Spock managed a nod.

"And that's why you're..." Jim trailed off before sighing heavily. There was the hint of a laugh in the sigh. "Okay. You need to get laid. That would help you a lot."

"I would prefer it if you did not use such blasé terms to describe a sacred and ritual part of Vulcan heritage," Spock said bitterly before he could stop himself.

"'Sacred and ritual'? Woah, woah, woah, back up. This isn't normal fucking you're talking about here?"

Spock sighed, sitting on the bed again. "No. This is not normal intercourse. If that were the case, Nyota and I would be able to tend to the problem ourselves."

"Woah! No! There are _some_ things that I don't want to know about you. And her. Mainly together," Jim said, frowning. He paused. "But... you and her..." he trailed off before continuing. "You've done the nasty?"

That was a fitting word, Spock thought, given the circumstances of what he was going through. "Yes, we have; however, I fail to see how it is your business."

"It's just... _you_. Her, yeah, she's walking sex on wheels, but you?"

"What about me?" Spock asked. He wasn't intentionally trying to change the subject, or maybe his subconscious was, but if he could deflect some of the awkwardness that was _pon farr_ , then he would and gladly.

"I've never even seen you roll up your sleeves, Spock. Never seen a hair out of place on your ridiculously gelled hair. I can't picture you rolling around with Uhura."

Spock, however, _could_ , and it was not helping anything.

He cleared his throat. "Yes. As it were, we do."

"Huh." Jim flopped into the chair at the desk. "I learn something new every day. I know you're going to say that this isn't my business, either, but when _is_ the last time you got some?"

Spock shot him a look that he didn't know if it turned out to be more disgusted or annoyed.

"I only ask because you seem like you could use it now," Jim said, waving his hand at Spock's lap.

Spock scowled, intertwining his hands in his lap again. "I am fully aware, Captain Kirk."

Kirk's eyebrows rose. "It seems like it hardly bothers you."

Unsure if Jim was making puns on words to taunt him or if he was just hearing things in his compromised state, Spock didn't remark on it. "Captain. I need to go to New Vulcan."

"Why New Vulcan? What can they do that Uhura can't do for you here?"

"Vulcans must return to their place of birth for _pon farr_. Seeing as how we do not have the planet of origin any longer, New Vulcan has to suffice. I will be bonded with a mate in the _koon-ut-kal-if-fee_."

" _Koony_ -what?"

" _Koon-ut-kal-if-fee_ ," Spock repeated. "It is the basis of our _pon farr_. In simple terms, it means 'marriage or challenge'." He could see that Jim was still interested and bursting to ask questions, so Spock looked back at the wall and continued to speak. " _Pon farr_ is what we Vulcans call the mating time. Every seven years we are forced to return to our place of birth... and join in the efforts to continue our lineage. If we don't, Captain Kirk... We will die."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unexplainably showing up at Uhura's quarters, random violence, lust, lust, lust. _Pon farr_ is a _bitch_.


End file.
